Silver Moon
by dragonfly8554
Summary: He wore only a Tshirt despite the cool fall night. It was black like his jeans, and his black Nike's. He was fond of black. Shadows, he thought. Night. It satisfied him to wear black, yet his laces were red. Blood, he had whispered.
1. Inuyasha

Inuyasha  
  
Inuyasha wiped the rat's blood from around his mouth. It was not as satisfying as human blood, but it would do. There had been no food at the park, of course.  
  
He had crouched in this alley behind a row of shops for twenty minutes now, catching and drinking, catching and drinking. They were hiding now, the rats. They knew something was up. Big cat, he thought, and smiled a thin, glittering smile.  
  
Time to move on. He stood adn stretched, lean-muscled arms reaching skyward. He wore only a T-shirt despite the cool fall night. It was black like his jeans, and his black Nike's. He was fond of black. Shadows, he thought. Night. It satisfied him to wear black, yet his laces were red. "Blood," he had whispered that evening at the thrift store, when his fingers would not leave them alone in the bin. They tangled around his nervous hand until he had to fling them from him or buy them. He handed a dime from the gutter over to the woman with the suspicious frown and fled to this same alley to put them on.  
  
Where would he go from here? The park? Maybe the girl that he had met earlier would have left. Or maybe not. I should go anyway, he thought, and smiled again, the same glittering smile. She was beautiful, dark like the night, but thin, as if another claimed her. A frown changed his features suddenly, then disappeared as quickly. No, she did not have the smell of that upon her.  
  
No, he would go to that house. He had only a few blocks to walk from here. He would see what the boy was up to.  
  
Inuyasha left the alley cautiously. It was not good to be seen at the same place often. It was an excellent hunting place; he did not want to lose it. He walked the pavement with shoulders hunched, hands in jean pockets, as if against the cold. Who knew who was watching. He would have to get a coat. The street he traveled intersected the alley that ran behind the houses on Mulberry Street. He made a right, five houses along he stopped at the end of a long backyard.  
  
There was no lights on at the back of the house. The yard was mottled with moonlight. Inuyasha flowed from shadow to shadow, between trees and bushes, as if a shadow himself. He might be a cloud in front of the moon. He reached the rough brick of the house and crept to the oak tree at the corner, with ease he scaled the tree and flowed up to a perch on a sturdy limb. He barely made any sound from the brittle leaves that were to stuborn to drop from the twigs.  
  
He could see into a bedroom. It was anonymous room. The walls were bare, nothing there to suggest the personality of the occupant. But there was an occupant, a huddled form on the bed. A boy that looked like he was twenty-one years old sitting with a book, reading a book with the moonlight as the light. He had a book bag lying beside him on the bed. You'll ruin your eyesite, boy, Inuyasha thought, and grinned wickedly. It was a thick book that you wouldn't think that the person would be reading it, and Inuyasha was itching to read the title. Occasionally, the person would suppress a laugh and shake his head, whisking his delicate white hair through the moonlight.  
  
Inuyasha saw the person lying there with his eyes opened, staring into the night, still defying sleep, still smiling. There was a growl in the back of Inuyasha's throat he could barely contain. It almost choked him. He climbed down the tree before it burst from his mouth. It was not the right time or place.  
  
Inuyasha sat in the bushes for a long while. He breathed the night, made plans, and abandoned them. No one in the house stirred. All the windows were clear; all except one window, where dark hunger beckoned.  
  
Finally, Inuyasha heard the predawn bird cry, and he rose to his feet in a single motion. His body made no protest at the breaking of the vigil. It was as if it were only seconds ago he had crouched there to watch. Silently, he left the yard by the way he had came and, accompanied by awaking birds, made his way back to what was home this week--an abandoned elementary school on Holton Street.  
  
He pulled aside a board and slid through a smashed window into the principal's office. The room, had lots of cobwebs and dust, had once been hell to six graders, but all it had left was a filling cabinet and a desk. Built-in shelves lined the room. A battered suitcase sat on one of the shelves.  
  
The board was put back in place the room as bathed into black once again. This did not bother Inuyasha as he didn't need much light to see. He took down the suitcase and opened it. Inside it had a small painting in a guilt frame. It was a family group: a man, a women with a baby in her arms, and a small child. The varnish was cracked and old. Beneath the painting was soil, dark dry soil. Inuyasha ran his fingers through it and sighed. This was his sleep; the soil of his homeland. The earth he would have rested in for eternity, if he had truly died, still had the power to give him a little of that peace. It was a taste of death, perhaps that restored him. Without it he would waste away to nothing and become a shriveled thing, unable to move, unable to feed, but still unable to die. He called it an 'undead hell'.  
  
He raised the painting to his lips and kissed it softly, then replaced it in the suitcase, closed the case, and locked the case. He needed rest, not like the comalike state of trance that sometimes took him. He could always tell when that was coming. It took a big feed; a human feed. Now he just needed a dormant period to recharge, so to speak. He shoved the suitcase in a cubbyhole underneath the desk and slid in after it. He curled, encircling the case, and wrapping his arms around it; clutching it as if it was his only treasure and possesion.  
  
He lay there, eyes opened, staring beyond the room, beyond the school. Before he lept into a dream, he thought of the girl again briefly. He then drifted off to the stars in a light sleep. 


	2. Kagome

Kagome  
  
Kagome left the library early. It was no use sitting there doing nothing. She went to her locker to get her next classes books, Biology. "Stupid locker." It always stuck, she felt like kicking the stupid thing. But she stood there glaring at it.  
  
"It won't melt, no matter how long you stare at it," came a voice at her side. "Sango! You snuck up quietly." "You've got to sneak about when when you cut as many classes as I do." "Again?" "Well, what's the use? I'm moving, aren't I? I'm moving in the middle of the semester, and I'm going to start in the middle of thier semester. I might as well give it up until Christmas."  
  
Kagome smiled as she watched Sango work her magic with her locker. Who was going to make her smile after she left? Who else was going to ignore her please of quiet and drag her to a party anyway? Who was going to make her laugh? Just because Sango was moving her life was going into hell, not to mention her mother was in the hospital yet again for treatment.  
  
The bell rang and they started to leave. Someone ran into the both of them. "You guys queer or something?" "Piss off Kikyo." The slut of the school was there. They sat down at their table in the back. They listened to what other people were talking about. "Hey, Miroku did you hear 'bout that murder last night?" "Ya, I read it in the paper this morning. What else have you heard about it Shippo?" "Her throught was slashed. And she was Stella's cuz." "God, it's like Jack the Ripper or something." "Ugh." They agreed in unision.  
  
During their last class she thought of the boy she saw last night. 'He could catch a cold if he stayed out like that anylonger, I wonder who he is anyways.' Then she thought of a poem, but the words only came to her, she would have to put them in order later. So far she came up with: Silver boy in the moonlight.  
  
Her father came to pick her up to take her to the hospital to see her mom. She got there and was shocked to see her mother like that again, pale in the bed and so skinny, with lots of tubes sticking in her skin. Her father ushered her out saying that he didn't want her to see her mother the way she was.  
  
She went to the park after her father ushered her out of the hospital. She sat on the bench again like she did everynight. A shiver ran down her spine like somethign icy touched her. "It's a beautiful night," came a soft voice besider her. She turned swiftly, her heart pounding. A young man sat there, more boy than man, slight and pale, had silver hair, dark wild eyes that held the stars, but they were filled with sadness. The lamplight outlined him against the dark bushes behind like a ring of frost around the moon. He smiled at her like a dog would smiles, with humor. "You scared me," she whispered. Who was he, this was the second time he had done that to her.  
  
"Sorry," but he didn't look it. She looked a little suprised and he said, "We're even now, you scared me." "Why would you be scared? It's you creeping up on people." He reached for her hand. She snatched it away and stood up. How dare he sneak up on her. He seemed surprised for a second, but then his smile deepened, and a dreamy look was on his face. "Please stay," he said in tones soft and lullaby. His eyes were huge, dark, and gentle. She hesitated for a moment. He seemed so understanding. Surely she could talk to him. Then her anger surfaced again 'The manipulated jerk', she thought.  
  
"I don't know what your after but you can look for it somewhere else." She turned and walked firmly away. "It strikes me," he called after her in a voice now with an edge in it, "that girls who sit alone in parks at night are after something." She was so furios that she could have turned and screamed at him. She almost did but no, thats what he wants.  
  
She walked home and started to heat up some left over pizza. While she ate she thought more and more about the boy. Was he weird? Whould he have hurt her? No, he wouldn't hurt her, he looked like an angel. 


	3. Fight

Fight

Inuyasha watched the girl walk away, a cloud of anger around her. He was bemused. She had not responded correctly. He had started to moon-weave, and she had broken it. She had snapped it with anger. He was interested. He followed her.

He slipped gradually into a half state, nearer mist than form. It was easy - like dreaming, really - just let go of body and drift. His consciousness held molecules together with tendrils of thought. He blended with the shadows and became the air. She would never see. He flowed beneath trees, slid along walls, cut corners through dying autumn flowers. He always kept her in sight. She walked fast, shimmering the crisp air with her breath.

They usually came to him when his eyes softened with the moon, when he crushed his voice like velvet. They let him caress them. They tipped their heads back and drowned in the stars, while he stroked exposed throat and wallowed in conquest. Sometimes he let them go and allowed them to think it was just a dream. He left before they broke the spell of his eyes, to sit blinking and head-shaking in cold predawn wind. Sometimes teh dark hunger awoke too strong to hold. He clenched them tight, sank fangs deep into yielding neck, and fed on the thick, hot soup of thier life. He was lost in the throbbing ecstasy song of blood pumping, life squrting, until blood, horror, and life ebbed, and he abandoned the limp remnants to seek dark sleep.

He stood at the wooden gate, watching the girl enter a forest-green door with diamond windows. Lights came on in the house. He circled it, peering into the windows. He inhaled details from the golden warmth he could never have: an Oriental carpet, an antiuqearmoire, cream kitchen tiles, and a painting of bright, crazed, laughing girls. His eyes narrowed, the girls in teh painting looked right at him. Just a painting he chided, but he felt mocked, and an anger rubled deep in his throat. The lights downstairs dimmed. A light came on above. She goest to sleep, he thought, and begrudged her rest when he had none.

He paced her garden with slinking gait, examining basement windows and garage doors. He could not enter unless invited, but he liked to know the ways in, and out, if needed. The animal was close to the surface tonight. It reminded him of when he first changed, when he roamed the woods like a beast from what seemed an eternity, mindless from shock. Threads of memory clung to him, though most was a blur. Images sparked bright at times; pictures frozen in the muted green light of the forest-savaged corpses of animals, or gamekeeper crumpled and drained amid the fallen leaves, his head barely attached to his neck. Inuyasha could not ever control it then, and his attack was fierece, made vicious by his own fear. It took a long time to regain teh capacity to think. It took longer to leave the forest. But the forest had never left him. Tonight it echoed in him like owl cries, and pine needles rustling.

He marked the outline of her house, like a dog in a way. He marked it with glands from his neck and lower back. It helped a little. I know where you live, he thought.

He walked then. He walked long and far, beating the anger beneath his feet. The quiet, dream-laden suburbs gave way to the street life of the urban fringe. Here the streets pulsed with light from corner bars and pizza palaces, late-night video-game archades, adn record stores taht seemed to never close. The hot boys stood on street corners, whispering promises of romance to girls in leather skirts who knew that they were lies. Groups of lonely people huddled together against the dark. He felt a kinship here. He was as separate as they amid teh crowd. No one saw him. He was too much like the undernourished, ill-clad street waifs of this gangling street to catch an eye. A group of boys ran laughing down the sidewalk, one waving a shirt above his head, bare-chest drunk. Girls paraded bargain-store fashions, their bleached hair and bedroom eyes hiding the fear that they weren't good enough. Soon the cold would force them inside, so they clutched at lost summer.

Inuyasha drifted off the main road to teh darker streets. He hummed pitch perfect a song he had gathered along the way. It was one of teh angry songs he enjoyed. He beat out its driving rhythm on his thigh as he walked. Occasionally he'd sing a phrase, when he remembered the words.

He paced the uneven pavement in front of row houses with peeling paint but well-scrubbed steps. Through one uncurtained window at a corner house he saw a woman on a man's lap in a shabby chair. They were laughing at a game show on TV. He could have stod there unnoticed for an hour. Suddenly he wanted to smash the window and scream, "Look at me!" He wanted to be noticed. He wanted people to see him. It was dangerous, this want. It was mad. But sometimes he was afraid that he didn't exist. Now and again someone recognized what he was. They had to die. If they didin't, well...It was foolish not to think of protecting himself. There was no one who knew him, no one to say his name.

He turned a corner and startled a dog. They cringed and growled at each other. The dog's hackles spiked, then it whimpered and ran. Inuyasha walked on and found a weed-choked vacant lot. Its only inhabitant was an abandoned car. He sat on a ruined wall and gazed at the moon.

"Hey, boy!" A call from the high brick wall next door. A leg was flung over, and then a scruffy youth of about sixteen pulled himself astride it. Boy, Inuyasha thought sarcastically. he smiled in anticipation.

"Yeah, you!" came a deeper voice. Another youth, perhaps a touch older, stepped out from behind the car. He was a big lout in jeans and a flannel shirt like a lumberjack. A sneering boy in a leather jacket followed him. "This is our lot," he hissed. He carried a half-empty liquor bottle and swayed slightly. His right hand flashed silver. Inuyasha saw he carried a knife, and he didn't like long pointy things. They made him nervous. He didn't like being nervous.

A scuffling announced the decent of the wall straddle, a thud his landing. The boys spread out and converged on Inuyasha. He rose slowly form his perch, muscles tightened. The boys advanced. "Where you from?" "You ain't from here." "Nobody here knows you." "Yeah," spoke the wall climber. "And if nobody knows you, you ain't nobody." He giggled, a high-pitched, nervous sound, and swiped his hands against a ragged Ozzie Osbourne T-shirt.

Nobody. Even this scum called him nobody. Inuyasha stepped toward the danger, into their net. They'd caught a caged dog this time. He smiled.

"Pretty tough, huh?" said the big one mockingly. The boy with the leather jacket settled his bottle into the crotch of two bricks. "Pretty stupid, you mean." He tossed his knife from hand to hand. "You a retard or somethin'?" "Yeah. He's too dumb to be scared."

Inuyasha turned his back on the third boy, the one who had said that. He was a sheep. The big one was a bully, but the leather-clad one was trouble. He was crazy. He didn't smoke weed, he smoked green. Inuyasha could smell it on him. It reeked like burning plastic and it killed the brain. It made people think they couldn't die.

"This is our playground buddy." "Yeah, wanna play?" Inuyasha finally spoke. "Is that what you said to your mother last night?"

"Son of a ..." The big one charged him, swinging meaty fists. Inuyasha stepped aside, quick as thought. The boy stumbled, looked confused, then turned like an angry bear to attack again. Inuyasha stepped aside once more. His opponent breathed heavily. Inuyasha smiled. Get the biggest once, and the rest often run. But he kept the crazy one in his sight all the same. You didn't know about dusters.

They danced a lopsided waltz on the wasted ground, and the big youth's fury grew and grew. Then Inuyasha stood still. The boy grabbed. He expected to miss but, to his surprise, fournd that the quarry was his. He panted and grinned. He had Inuyasha's arm in a crushing hold, as he prepared a blow. And Inuyasha, who didn't come up to his chin, clutched the boy's belt with his free hand and lifted him into the air. The boy waved his arms like an insect and gurgled with fear. The boy in the jacket spat an oath but was frozen, enthralled. The other boy trembled but couldn't move either. Inuyasha threw his opponent then, an impossible distance. The boy sailed the air for a moment, then crashed in a pile of debris. The sound broke the spell, and Inuyasha heard the third boy run.

But the boy with the knife laughed. He slinked forward, stell flicking in the streetlight. He had seen a fight or two, Inuyasha sumerised, but probably won through sheer viciousness, not skill. Best to deal with him as a dog does a rat-no play, snap it fast.

The boy was expecting another dance, not for his victim to walk right up to him. He hesitated a second, confronted with craziness greater than his, then he saw something in Inuyasha's eyes that made him lunge. He slashed wildly in fear, but too late. His knife went flying. His arm, captured for a moment, went limp, and searing, and useless. He backed away.

It was Inuyasha's turn to laugh; a sound dark and cursed. The blow he landed snapped the boy back and smashed him against the car. The boy started to slide to the ground, bust slim white hands reached for him delicately and slammed him once more against the car. The third blow rendered him unconscious and flooded Inuyasha wit the sweet warm pleasure of the kill.

"Call me nobody?" he whispered, and his fangs slid from their sheaths. "Call me nobody?" he screamed as if in pain. He hoisted his victim up and tore the boy's wrist open with a savage claw. He raised the boy's arm and, with the pulsing blood, wrote wavering letters on the dingy primer of the car's roof. 'I AM.'

The dark, raw smell of blood intoxicated. He found himself embrasing the boy and pullin the damaged wrist up to his mouth. Faintly, somewhere, he felt disgust. A distant echo cried for him to stop. But the blood call was too strong. He had almost placed a reverent kiss upon the hand when sirens screamed too close.

He pushed the limp body from him, but it seemed to cling. For a moment he felt trapped. Then it slid to the ground. But in the midst of panic a perverse whim took hold. He began to strip the jacket from the huddled form, struggling with the boy's inert bulk, bloodying the lining, ripping a seam until it pulled free. Black and glittering, he had his prize. He clutched it to him, leaving its owner his life.

Then he was running. He fled past his first assailant, now staring with white-faced ructus fear, through the rubble of lost homes, out into the night, on and on through the streets, until he arrived in the quiet yard of a house with a dark green door. He wrapped the bloodstained jacket about his shoulders and sank down beneath an azalea bush. He stared at her window until dawn.


	4. Miroku

"Miroku, if you read one more sentence and put my name as that fucking vampire I am gonna beat the shit outta you. So what if I'm half dog demon and a vampire thanks to that fucking curse Kikyo put on me. It's not my fault you know." a male voice said from the shadows.

"Damn it Inuyasha, you don't have to take out all the fun you know. What do you want me to do then while we wait for her reincarnate to come to us or are you still on that thing about finding her?" the man, Miroku answered the voice.

"Feh, whatever you say monk. Just don't put me in any of those stories that you read, I don't care if I'm the good guy or the bad guy it still doesn't matter to me." Inuyasha said. He came out of the shadows and was wearing black tripp pants and a red hoodie that said 'Die and I wont hafta kill you' on it, black studded bracelet adorned his wrists, on his neck he wore a black studded choker and he wasn't wearing anything on his feet.

"You need to go to school to learn some grammar and how to talk to your friends." Miroku replied.

"Ya, your about the only one that didn't run away and scream, and besides aren't you supposed to kill me or something seeing as I'm a vampire and a half demon, or are you still new to the line of work you do?" sarcastically remarked Inuyasha.

"Not this again, Inuyasha. You know that I wont kill, slay, vanquish, or maim you unless you show your demonic side and are evil; not that you are but sometimes you can be pretty scaring when you angry or mad. You help people not kill them and that's why I haven't done any killing of you. So quit moping that I'm gonna leave or kill you and get on to saving those people who need to be saved. Thank god your not a werewolf." Miroku muttered underneath his breath, but thanks to Inuyasha's superb hearing he heard it like Miroku was talking in his outdoor voice. "You know I could let out my vampire side and let it kill you, you do know that right?" Inuyasha said with a demonic look in his eye that wasn't covered up by his bangs. "I know you can't unless if your very close to death or that rosary is broken around you skinny neck." Miroku replied with a calm expression on his face, they had this conversation at least twice a week. "Or I could let my demonic side out, it hasn't had the chance to exercise very much." Inuyasha said with a haughty voice. "You have the tetsiga in your belt and if you lay it down I will put a sacred spell on it and strap it to your hip so that you will never be able to take it off, do I make my self clear Inuyasha?" Miroku said in a stern voice. "What's not clear? I couldn't understand you, you were mumbling." snickered Inuyasha. "I give up, I'll never understand you." Miroku sighed.'

Sorry that its so short and all but I had a review saying that I was copying out of the book called 'Silver Kiss' and yes I was so that Miroku would get yelled at. And because Simon the vampire in the story is sorta like Inuyasha, but Simon isn't half demon or anything he's just a vampire but he was a prince I think it said. So they do have some stuff in common. Thanks for reading.

Dilly


End file.
